


heavy tolls and the price of love

by asexuelf



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Asexual Fenris (Dragon Age), Asexuality, Consent Issues, Extremely Dubious Consent, Internalized Acephobia, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Unhappy Ending, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Fenris hates it. He doesn't hate that Anders wants this - he can hardly resent a man for desiring his partner - but he hates that the want feels like this.
Relationships: Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36





	heavy tolls and the price of love

**Author's Note:**

> warnings abound for dubious consent. 'says yes but means no' type stuff. and self-hate. lots of that.

Things are getting heated again.

Fenris hates it. He doesn't hate that Anders wants this - he can hardly resent a man for desiring his partner - but he hates that the want feels like this.

Anders’ hands are sweaty and a little cold in that way they always are, rough under Fenris’ tunic, grasping at his sides and back. The mouth on his has gone from soft and comforting to harsh and, Fenris hates to think, demanding. No, not demanding. _ Searching_. It only feels demanding because he's searching for something that will never be found.

It takes a moment to realize Anders is steering him - he'd been walking backwards in hopes of moving _ away _ from Anders, but the man must have read it wrong. Anders would never force him to do this. Would he? He wouldn't. Fenris hopes to the Maker, to the Creators, to anyone, that he would not.

_If Andraste was a kind woman, let me leave here unharmed._ _Let this man be all he says._

When Fenris feels the side of Anders’ threadbare cot hit his calves, he panics, jolting away with a short shout.

“Oof-” Anders stumbles backwards in shock. “Fenris? What is it? Are you hurt?”

“I don't- I can't-” The words catch in his throat. How does one begin to explain? How does a man begin to tell his lover he’s _ broken? _

Anders slowly seems to come back to himself. “Of course. Of course, I'm sorry-”

“It's not your fault.” Something heavy settles in Fenris’ stomach. He feels suddenly that he's swallowed sea water. This happens every time, Anders wanting what he is meant to want and Fenris pulling away, but each time Anders’ face grows a little more guilty. Now he looks at Fenris in shame, as if desiring one's lover is some terrible crime he’s committed by accident.

Fenris averts his eyes.

“I- I apologize, Anders-”

“You don't have to apologize. You don’t _ ever _ have to apologize for telling me no, Fenris.”

The _ because one day you'll say yes _ goes unspoken. Fenris wonders again if he's being unkind. It's not Anders' fault that he's like this. It's his own for not giving Anders what he wants.

"Thank you," he says anyways. He thinks to soothe Anders with a kiss, something chaste and forgiving, but finds himself too proud. Too afraid.

-

Fenris spends a lot of time thinking about what sex is for someone that is disinterested in it. Then again, disinterest is rather an understatement; and they say hate is just another form of love.

He thinks sometimes that if he can define it, define _ lovemaking _ and _ fucking_, then he can fix this. Fix what's wrong in him that separates him from the earth and the people on it. What is eroticism? What is desire? What is love and in what ways is it defined by touch?

A part of him tells him that he's not a scholar and never has been, that he should put this behind him and just do what he was made to do. Lie back, enjoy it. Or lie back, close his eyes, and wait for it to be over.

That part of him is too loud and sounds too much like Danarius. It's the part of him that tells him to stop running, to stop fighting, to fall to his knees in submission before his master or before the Maker or before-

He's never listening to that part of him again. It doesn't matter how much he agrees with it.

"Sex is fun," Isabela answers. 

He is not a scholar, says Danarius, and perhaps that is correct, but he is a man who has always searched for answers. For solutions. And despite the part she plays for others, the part she finds her freedom in, Fenris knows Isabela is like him. She finds her solutions.

"And when it is not fun? How would you define it?"

"Define it…? Are you writing a book? Looking to have Varric set you up with his publisher?"

"Isabela."

"Alright, you prickly man. I suppose if it isn't fun, it's typically transactional. Sex tends to get you where coin can't."

Fenris doesn't like to think that she might be right - that he might, in the end, have to swallow his pride and pay for love with consent against his consent, but it's been sticking to the inside of his skull for a long time now. Since the first time Anders looked over with those eyes and made his attractions clear, in fact. Since the first time Fenris looked at the mage and thought, _ I could have this. I could be worthy of this. _

Isabela asks more questions, but he redirects her needling with teasing and flirtation each time. She knows him well enough to see that this is important - so she keeps digging, but each time, just like with Anders, he refuses.

Fenris leaves the Hanged Man empty handed and miserable. He doesn't know what's wrong with him. He doesn't know how to fix it.

-

Time passes and little changes.

Fenris doesn't understand the language, but somehow sends signals to his lover time and time again. Anders' hands are so loving, so warm when they try to pull him closer, and Fenris is repulsed. 

The riptide rushes forward but Fenris drowns beneath. He feels like a fool.

What kind of man is disgusted by this?

Sometimes he thinks he should tell Anders. After all, is he not a healer? If anyone could place these broken pieces into the right shape, it would be Anders.

The shame is too great. Sometimes, Fenris pulls away. Sometimes, he doesn't.

He never gets good at pretending.

-

Danarius is dead.

Danarius is dead and Fenris is home, with Anders, wondering distantly what being dead is like. Wondering why he isn't fixed. Wondering why this doesn't feel like freedom.

They're making love - or, more accurately, Anders is putting his love into Fenris and Fenris is trying very hard not to feel his body. Anders is being a little more rough than he usually is; there is much to celebrate, even if Fenris does not feel celebratory, and it has made him passionate.

Not so passionate that he's lost all his senses, sadly. Anders stops suddenly and really looks at the thing beneath him. "Fenris, are you okay?"

Fenris swallows and hopes it isn't obvious he's holding down bile. He can't open his eyes. He thought doing this tonight would be easier than it usually is, _ he's free now_, but he was wrong. He is wrong and he is broken and whatever disease he is will surely spread. It always spreads.

"Fenris? Shite." Anders pulls out then, a feeling which is arguably worse than any other part of what they do. "Fenris, hey, I'm here. Talk to me."

"You may continue," he bites out. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that this is not an act of violence. Still, the heavy bitterness of tonight sets in, and for a moment, he almost craves violence. 

He is so angry and so angry and so angry.

He wishes Anders would just get it over with. 

"I'm usually better at this. I'm sorry."

"Better at what?" Anders shifts, the bed sheets around them loud where they brush each other. Too loud. "Tonight was- a lot. I'm so sorry. I should have known better."

"Nobody knows better, Anders."

Anders is still and silent. Fenris can feel him staring.

"Nobody knows better," he says again. He doesn't know what else to say. He just wants Anders to finish so he can cry and go to sleep.

"They should. They should know better."

Although it aches to move his body, to have a body, Fenris turns on his side and faces away from Anders. Anders lifts the blanket over him.

"Fenris…?"

Fenris doesn't want to talk anymore. He doesn't want to anymore. "We should sleep."

That doesn't seem to satisfy Anders. An uneasy silence sits around them until Anders finally lies down.

"Can I hold you?" And his voice is so small and unsure that Fenris' mouth jolts. He bites his lip to keep it from wobbling.

"Yes."

When morning comes, Fenris wants to leave before Anders can wake, but finds the arms wrapped around him far too tight to even try.

**Author's Note:**

> tried to force myself to write a happy ending, but couldn't make anything of it. i can't see myself getting a happy ending, so writing one is difficult. left it with the potential for a happy ending for ya'll to add your own in.
> 
> thanks for reading 💖


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